Page 59 of Tattooed Heart

“Sandy,” I simultaneously whisper her name like a prayer and a curse.

“By now, Morozov's team should be approaching your brother's estate,” Russo continues. “While you're out here occupied, your woman and child are the ones at risk.”

Without taking my eyes off Russo, I reach for my phone. There are no new messages. I try calling Sandy and Talia, but neither answer.

“Figured it out yet?” Russo taunts. “This whole operation—the doctor, the ambush—it's all misdirection. Keeping you and your men occupied while the real work happens elsewhere.”

My finger tightens on the trigger. One shot will permanently end Russo's threat.

“Dimitri!” Ivan calls from the helicopter. “We need to move!”

The rational part of my mind recognizes the tactical reality. We are outnumbered and exposed, and the doctor needs medical attention. The primal part wants nothing more than to put a bullet through Russo's smug face.

“Your choice, Popov,” Russo calls. “Stay and fight or run home to your pregnant whore and hope you make it in time.”

The crude reference to Sandy shatters my restraint. My shot takes Russo in the shoulder. It isn’t a kill, but enough to drop the man to his knees.

I move with lethal purpose, closing the distance between us while Aleksandr's men provide covering fire against Russo's remaining team. When I reach Russo, I press my weapon against his temple.

Russo laughs through his pain. “You're already too late. But I'll tell you this much…Morozov doesn't want her dead. Not right away. He wants her alive, wants her to lose the baby first, and wants her to know it was because you’re weak.”

I hear the helicopter's engine intensifying. Time is running out for my exit. “How many men at the estate?”

“Six men.”

“And the compromised staff member?” I probe.

Russo's eyes widen slightly, surprise breaking through his pain. “You know about her?”

“Name,” I growl, pressing the gun harder.

“Elena. Started a couple of months ago. She is supposed to ensure access through the east wing security system.”

I absorb this information, and the pieces fall into place. Elena is the new household staff member who was so eager to help Sandy with her pregnancy preparations.

“One last question,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Russo's expression shifts to one of resignation. “Because Morozov promised me you'd be dead by now. The fact that you're not means I'm a dead man walking. Might as well make him work for it.”

I study him for a moment longer, then stand. “You're right about one thing. You are a dead man.”

My next shot is precise. Russo's body slumps to the rooftop as I turn and run for the helicopter, ducking as sporadic fire from the remaining gunmen follows my movements.

I leap aboard just as the aircraft begins to lift, Ivan pulling me to safety. At the same time, the doctor lies secure on the floor, emergency medical attention already being administered by one of Aleksandr’s men.

“The mansion,” I shout to the pilot over the roar of the rotors. “Maximum speed.”

As we gain altitude, leaving the clinic and Russo's body behind, I try Sandy's phone again. Still, no answer. Then I try Aleksandr’s. The signal is still jammed.

“What happened down there?” Ivan asks, noting my steely expression.

“It was a diversion,” I hiss, checking my weapon and reloading. “The real target was always the mansion and Sandy.”

Ivan’s face hardens. “How many?”

“Six. And they have inside help.”

“Aleksandr will have protection in place,” Ivan offers, though his tone suggests he understands the severity of the threat.

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